Crud
by mandaree1
Summary: "...You're scared, and they just stitched ya back together like Frankenstein's monster. That ain't somethin' you can just step back from like 'yup, doin' okay, next mission.' It's okay to wanna step back for a bit." Wally has the kind of day you really wish was just over.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Codename; Kids Next Door!**

 **Title: Crud**

 **Summary: "...You're scared, and they just stitched ya back together like Frankenstein's monster. That ain't somethin' you can just step back from like 'yup, doin' okay, next mission.' It's okay to wanna step back for a bit." Wally has the kind of day you really wish was just over.**

 **Warnings: Mentions of blood, dismemberment, and surgery, but nothing actually descriptive or typically horrifying.**

 **...**

Wally's body knows how hard it is to be an operative. His hands are covered in the scars of it, feet tough and uninjured even as he walks over sharp rubble. His skin is tanned or bleached almost exclusively, showcasing exactly which area he's been patrolling the most recently. He can leap higher and move quicker and hit harder than the average Joe walking down the street.

His internal watch is in tune with whatever he sets it to. He can sleep endlessly or stay up for days. Go days without food and water or drink gallons of root beer with cheese fries.

Wally's body knows how hard it is, but he thinks perhaps he didn't know it himself, because he's still deeply surprised when his own arm gets hacked off in battle. It's nothing new or even particularly cumbersome- operatives lose bits of themselves all the time. They have the tech to fix them up without a trace.

Hoagie's bragged to him about his detachable ear. Kuki has robotic spine parts in the lower half. The rumor goes that Nigel has a skull cap entirely made of metal after whatever happened to his hair. You can see the after effects, if you look hard enough; the little notch on the bendy top of Hoagie's left ear, the lines on Kuki's back, Nigel's ability to be thrown at pretty much anything and be okay. Abby's probably been worked on loads of times. She just doesn't talk about it.

Despite this, he never sees it coming.

* * *

It's a simple enough task, the doctors tell him. They numb and unconscious-ify, clear out the squishy bits, then attached the arm lookalike. Bam. You're fine.

"It's a perfect match." Numbuh 74.239 mentions proudly, spitting all the way. "Right down to the skin tone, which will change as you do."

That's a lie. There's no callouses or scars on this one.

Wally feels disorientated looking at it. It looks like his own. It _should_ be his arm. It feels like his arm. When he twitches he can practically feel it, but then he gets it smashed by a misplaced weapon and there's nothing. No feeling, no pain.

But the thing shifts and moves weird. Not too fast or too slow, but too stiffly. Like a pair of shoes yet to be broken in. He can only imagine what that does to a spine, but then he stops, distracted by the colors and gadgets at his helm. Nigel had offered to drive, but a cruddy robot arm doesn't magically make him useless.

Still. He's happy to reach home base again.

There's no spoken dismissal, but Numbuh 2 salutes and shambles off. Guy looks like he's in a daze, and Numbuh 1 doesn't stop him. Wally has the realization that if something blew up close to his ear, does that mean his hearing is janked? It's never seemed that way, but things tend to fly over his head.

Numbuh 3 is far from polite as she pulls up his sleeve. Wally recoils, half from a long-forgotten notion of cooties (which he probably has by now, anyways) and half because of the bile rising in his throat. He can't look as it. He doesn't want to. It's not his.

"Hmm. They did a pretty good job on the stitches, I guess." She says, but in all actuality he's translating. She's switched back to Chinese, as she does when tired or confused. They're all fluent, so it's not like it matters. "I still think we shoulda done it here."

"We don't have the technology here, Numbuh 3." Numbuh 1 says, but it only sounds vaguely authoritative. He almost sounds like a sad kid again, and that freaks them both out.

"But he lost a lot of blood!" Her lip trembled. "What if he _died_?"

"Very few operatives have ever died from something like- like this. Besides, Numbuh 362 gave us an order. We had to follow it."

Wally stops listening after 'died.'

He could have, couldn't he? And it wouldn't have been something quick and easy; there'd be a lot of blood and agony involved. Numbuh 4 had never expected to see much of either- he was the one who was first to charge into a battle and was typically the last one out. In the few, odd cases where things turn deadly, he's the kind of kid who'd go instantaneously.

Seriously. They have numbers for this. They've fought wars for this. Wally doesn't panic, doesn't hyperventilate. He's just numb.

He could be dead right now. The dead don't have cruddy robot arms. He can't tell if he'd be happier or worse off.

"Numbuh 4? You're pale."

He's saved from answering Numbuh 1's prodding by a dark hand on his shoulder. His body unwinds under the familiar presence of Abby, the smell of candy lingering on her clothes. She must've hit the chest pretty hard after he went down, but she doesn't look it

"Alright, now. Leave the poor kid alone; he's been through enough." She points a finger at Nigel, then Kuki. "You goin' to bed, and you're goin' to bed, and you tell Numbuh 2 when you see him that _he's_ goin' to bed too. Numbuh 5's gonna fix Numbuh 4 a quick drink, and we're all gonna be sleeping."

"But-" Numbuh 1 says, but he has that defeated look he gets whenever Numbuh 5 puts her foot down.

"Bed. Now." Without waiting for a response, Numbuh 5 led Wally away by the shoulder. He hates that she touches the cruddy fake one. "C'mon, boy. Let's set you up with a cold one."

Numbuh 5's room is a fairly open one, as far as that can go. An operative has to be ready and flexible, and Abby seems to have taken that motto to heart, sporting a mostly free floor plan, with a bed and bar tucked away to the side. Wally thinks that perhaps Nigel's is the only one more bare.

"Regular or fizzy?"

"Fizzy. Extra fizz."

Abby slips behind the counter, grabbing a glass and bottle. She sets it in the drain, shakes the bottle, then pops the lid off. There's not even a grimace as soda and condensation coat her fingers and the glass. She tops it off after the fizz subsides a bit, wipes the sticky substance off the glass with a hand towel, then sets it in front of Wally without a word.

"Thanks, Numbuh 5. S'that yer special stash?"

"More Hoagie's than it is mine, but yeah. Drink up."

Wally grits his teeth and grabs the glass with fingers that aren't his own. It feels wrong. He should never use this abomination. Ever.

Numbuh 5 leans against the counter, making no complaint as the unyielding surface bends into her stomach. Maybe she's forgotten how to feel it. "Take your time, Numbuh 4. We got all night."

"I'm fine. I- I just hate getting hopped up before bed."

"Boy, you could eat nothin' but lettuce and you'd still be running 'till you knocked out." She shoved the glass closer, encouraging rather than pressuring. "Try it. It'll help with the pain."

He downs it, but only because he hates looking like a coward. "There. Can I go now?"

"Numbuh 5 was never keepin' you." She shrugged. "Door's open."

They don't move. Abby carefully retrieves the glass from between his trembling fingers, presenting her back to him to wash.

"Look. It's never gonna be easy. Numbuh 5 ain't gonna stand here and tell ya it will be. You're scared, and they just stitched ya back together like Frankenstein's monster. That ain't somethin' you can just step back from like 'yup, doin' okay, next mission.' It's okay to wanna step back for a bit."

"No, it's not."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Numbuh 1 would. Numbuh 362 would. It ain't silly."

Wally clenches his fists. "Hoagie came back. Kuki came back."

"Numbuh 2 lost an ear, and Numbuh 3 was in the middle of a battlefield. You just got ya arm ripped off." She turned to give him a deadpan look. "Honestly, if it were up to Numbuh 5, I'd have ya sent home, but all I can do is try and convince you."

He stood, cradling himself on the rungs of the stool to hover at her height. Wally doesn't quite realize that tears are bubbling up. "And do what? Hold Joey and 'ave him freak out when he notices I ain't got the right parts? He'd feel it; what baby wouldn't? Listen ta' mom and dad laugh and joke while I gotta cruddy robot _arm_ meltin' inta my shoulder?"

"It ain't easy." Numbuh 5 agrees. "But is it any easier here?"

He froze, then slowly slid back into his seat. He moved like an old man. "Least ya' get me. Least I don't have ta' lie."

"You took an oath, Numbuh 4." Abby's voice is gentle and sympathetic, but also firm. "It's what you swore you'd do. Our childhood ain't our's. It never was. We gave it up to fight evil, and they took it without even a second glance. It's like sellin' your soul- once it's gone you don't get it back."

"Abby?"

"Huh?"

"You've lost somethin', haven't you?"

"Baby, I've lost a little of everything. Just lookit my track record."

"I meant- ah, you know what I mean!"

Numbuh 5 is quiet. He can't see her eyes from under her hat, but he doesn't doubt she's staring at him with years of painful experiences. Finally, she pulls his hand up by the wrist, pressing the fingers into her side, right about the waist.

"From here down." She whispers, swallowing. Wally's fingers flinch. "It's all fake."

 **Author's Note: I hadn't done any Wally angst before now, so here ya'll go! (Also I'm terrible with accents so this show is a trip to write for)**

 **-Mandaree1**


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